Sunday, February 03, 2013


“Because even the smallest of words can be the ones to hurt you, or save you.” 
Natsuki Takaya

She despised words.
 Words could be twisted into anything. 
Life could be fantastical one day 
then words taken out of context, 
 meanings misconstrued could
crash her world the next.

Promises of trust lulled her heart and seduced her soul. 
In the final analysis, words meant nothing. 
They were labels given to things in order to make sense of their underlying natures, 
when ninety-nine percent of the time the totality of the reality 
was a different beast. 

She often felt more betrayed by the words, than the person.
Words linger and torture,
people leave.
 She removed all the words and sought to judged a man by his actions 
yet still felt utterly heartbroken and betrayed.
So she was done. 
She knew the wisest man was a silent one.
One with no words. 

When a life crashes, the heart must go elsewhere to save itself. 
Hers for weeks had been residing in another season. 
A time of wispy leave-strewn back roads.
 Small town coffee cottages with fresh baked pumpkin bread, still warm. 
Sleepy bluff towns, laundry on lines and dogs in doghouses.
 She peered into a world she knew little of and wondered 
what it would be like at their dinner table.
Soon, it would be time to be on these roads again, 
so her mind wandered often to where her heart now lived.

 I don't want to hear words. 
I don't want to read words. 
I don't want to believe in words anymore.
I'll no longer trust words.
I want to feel the cold autumn air and smell fireplaces.
 I want to remember the things I love,
 those autumn days and the feel of my camera.
 To be on the open road. 

She had lost faith in the same words she used to paint those incredible journeys.
 Those words born out of the color and textures, the smells, sounds and adventures of the landscapes discovered. 
Those words that had danced around the images 
like those leaves caught in the wind 
on those sleepy autumn back roads,
now meant nothing. 

Then someone sent her these words.

"Hi there. 
On Tuesday last I sat down, in Ireland, with my mom on her 90th birthday. 
We watched videos made by my Irish kids, who live here in Arkansas, and videos made by their kids to celebrate my mom's birthday.

When we were done with the videos she asked me if I had any of your pictures. So we went online to your page and she sat and enjoyed so many of your pictures, especially your fall pictures in Colorado last year.

You have a nonagenarian fan across the pond!

Take care, Valerie, 
and thank you."

Suddenly she felt her heart move a little closer to home.
 She felt her eyes well up and give way to streams that poured down her cheeks.  
Those beautiful words stirred a warmth inside her even though she wanted to fight it. 
Those  kind words began to mend to a broken heart.
They were the words that  would rekindle a bit of faith.
They were words of color and mood. 
Words of a joy and celebration miles away. 

They were the words that saved her.

Happy 90th Birthday Maire